


"Rarely Looks Up, Rarely Loves"

by Philosopher_King



Series: Whatever is done from love [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Nietzschean Loki, Oral Sex, PWP, Philosophy, Porn With Philosophy, Reading Aloud, Reading during sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 06:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10565568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosopher_King/pseuds/Philosopher_King
Summary: Loki just wants to lie on his bed and read after dinner; Thor has other activities in mind. They arrive at a compromise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A minific originally posted on [Tumblr](http://philosopherking1887.tumblr.com/post/159254069690/rarely-looks-up-rarely-loves-a-thorki-ficlet), partly inspired by this [fanart](http://philosopherking1887.tumblr.com/post/159242142145/littleartbot-thorki-ing-out-to-save-my-sanity) and this [art project](http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/01/15/clayton-cubitt_n_6472188.html), with a bit of a connection to [one of my Thorki fics](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9634976/chapters/21766217), in which Loki quotes from the same passage – from section 213 of _Beyond Good and Evil_ – in a somewhat similar context. (Translation by Walter Kaufmann, with a few modifications for greater adherence to the German. Yes, for the sake of fanfiction.)

About an hour after he had retired to his chambers from dinner, a knock came at Loki’s door. “What do you want, Thor?” he called without moving from his bed.

“I think you know,” came Thor’s indistinct voice, muffled by the door as well as kept deliberately low.

Loki sighed.  “Not now. I’m reading.”

…and the incorrigible brute opened the door anyway, and came right through the antechamber into Loki’s bedroom.  At least he had the sense to close the outer door behind him.

From the foot of the bed, Thor scrutinized the title on the spine of Loki’s open book.  “Haven’t you read that before?” he asked—a neutral question on the surface, but in it Loki heard the whine of an impatient child.

“Yes, dozens of times,” Loki answered pleasantly, not looking up from the page.

Shifting on his feet, Thor waited for further explanation, but none was forthcoming.  “Then why is it so pressing that you read it again?” he asked, unable to contain his irritation.

Loki at last raised his eyes and fixed his brother with his most condescending gaze.  “Because I get something new out of it every time.  Haven’t you ever had that experience with a book?”

He was expecting a chagrined ‘no,’ but instead Thor directed his eyes to one side and considered it.  “Yes, I suppose I have,” he allowed.

“Well, then,” Loki said with finality.

But instead of turning and _leaving,_ Thor sat down beside Loki’s outstretched feet and said, “If this book contains such deep stores of riches, perhaps you should share them with me.”

Well, maybe he would get bored and leave, Loki reasoned as he capitulated.  _“Ultimately, there is an order of rank among states of the soul, and the order of rank of problems accords with this,”_ he began at the point where he had left off in his own reading.  (It was in the middle of a section, but he doubted it would matter much to Thor if he had started again at the beginning.) _“The highest problems repulse everyone mercilessly who dares approach them without being predestined for their solution by the height and power of his_ — Thor, what are you doing?”  Loki left off mid-sentence when he felt a tug at the lacing of his trousers.

Thor, now lying on his belly alongside Loki’s legs, smirked and said, half playful and half petulant, “You’re the philosopher. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“This is utterly childish,” Loki huffed.

“On the contrary, I’m quite certain I never knew how to do this as a child,” Thor rejoined as he finished unlacing Loki’s trousers, opened them in the front, and licked a stripe along Loki’s partially exposed length, which twitched traitorously in response and strained against the fabric still confining it.

“You are hopeless,” Loki said, but he knew his heart wasn’t in it; his cock certainly wasn’t, the recalcitrant bastard.

“Am I?” Thor said with a grin, drawing out the rest of Loki’s hardening prick and sliding his lips teasingly along the head.  “Perhaps you should continue to enlighten me. We’ll almost certainly both get something new out of it.  What is it whose height and power must predestine you to solve the highest problems…?”

Loki was shocked that Thor had recalled that much of what he had read.  Shaking his head, he picked up again:  _“…without being predestined for their solution by the height and power of his spirituality. What does it avail when—_ oh!— _when nimble know-it-alls or clumsy solid mechanics and empiricists push near them, as is common today”_ — he breathed out a sharp sigh as Thor very deliberately slid his tongue across his frenulum, then pointedly cleared his throat and continued—  _“trying with their plebeian ambition to enter the ‘court of courts.’ Upon such carpets coarse feet may never step: the primeval law of things takes care of that—_ mph.”  Loki clenched his lips tightly and turned his eyes briefly toward the ceiling as he felt Thor take him deeper into his mouth, almost down to his throat.  _“…the doors remain closed to such obtrusiveness_ ,” he went on stubbornly,  _“even if they crash and crush their heads against them.”_

Thor pulled away, panting but still grinning.  “Well, either I’m not so plebeian or you’re not one of the ‘highest problems,’” he laughed.

“Oh, for Ymir’s— it’s about philosophical problems, you— you clumsy solid mechanic,” Loki gritted out through clenched teeth.  If his fingers clutched any harder at the pages of his book, he feared he might leave indentations.

“Clumsy, am I?” Thor challenged him before dipping his head again to demonstrate the agility of his tongue.

“Nimble know-it-all, then,” Loki barked, then coughed and plunged on.  _“For every high world one must be born; or—_ hah!— _to speak more clearly, one must be_ cultivated _for it: a right to philosophy—taking that word in its great sense—one has only by virtue of one’s origins; one’s ancestors, one’s ‘blood’ decide here, too…”_

Thor had come up for air again and took the opportunity to interject, “So, if you have the right to philosophy, then it stands to reason that I must too.”

Loki rolled his eyes.  “That’s not exactly what he means—for one thing, ‘blood’ is in scare quotes… and in any case, I probably don’t have the right to philosophy ‘in its great sense.’  But I was saying:  _Many generations must have labored to prepare the origin of the philosopher; every one of his virtues must have been acquired, nurtured, passed down, and incorporated singly, not only…_ oh, fuck…”  The warmth and tension were coiling so tightly in Loki’s belly that he gave up on the book and let it rest open on his chest as he gave in to the urge to throw back his head and arch his back, while struggling to resist the instinct to thrust his hips toward Thor’s mouth.

He whimpered when Thor pulled off again to ask (after flicking his tongue to break the string of saliva that still stretched between his lower lip and the head of Loki’s cock; Loki found the sight oddly appealing, though he could not fathom why), “…not only what?”

He had still been listening?  And what was that fatuous grin—what, was he going to taunt Loki by holding off until he started reading again?

“Norns, Thor, really,” Loki snapped at him, but he gave in anyway:  _“not only the bold, light, delicate gait of—_ mmmhhh— _of his thoughts but above all the readiness for great”_ — a sharp inhale—  _“great responsibilities, the loftiness of masterly glances and glances_ down, _the feeling of separation from the crowd and its duties and virtues_ —”Finally Loki found himself unable to form words, much less focus on the meaning of the text, as his release shuddered through him.  Thor’s mouth enveloped him warmly through all the aftershocks; he only pulled away, licking a few stray drops of spend from the corner of his lip, once Loki’s body had collapsed limply to the bed (and his cock was beginning to follow).

“Was that the end?” Thor asked idly, stroking light fingers along the edge of Loki’s hipbone.

Loki stared at him.  “You would know; you’re the one who swallowed it.”

Thor gave him a resentful look.  “Of the passage in the book.”

“Oh.”  Thor was full of surprises tonight.  “No, there’s a bit more. … _the feeling of separation from the crowd… the affable protection and defense of whatever is misunderstood and slandered, whether it be god or devil”_ — he saw Thor smile at that; did he only imagine it looked slightly sad?— _“the pleasure and exercise of the great justice, the art of command, the width of the will, the slow eye that rarely admires, rarely looks up, rarely loves…”_

Loki raised his eyes from the page and saw Thor’s smile broaden and brighten.  “Rarely indeed,” he said, and started moving up Loki’s body, clearly angling for a kiss.

“No, go rinse your mouth first.  You know my rules,” Loki said.  His tone was reproving, but he could not keep the warmth out of it.  Thor instead placed the kiss beside the corner of Loki’s eye before he went to obey.

 


End file.
